The International Socialist Review
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JUNE, 1909 TEN CENTS A Story of Child Labor "Tile Apostate" By JACK LONDON Socialism Becoming Respectable PROFESSOR CLARKE OF COLUM BIA UNIVERSITY ADVISES RE FORMERS TO JOIN THE PARTY. Third Volume of Marx's "Capital" ERNEST UNTERMANN "I ain't never go in' to work again ·• The International Socialist Review A MO.\'THLY JOURNAL OF INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST THOL'GHT EDITED BY CHARLES H. ORR ASSOCIATE EDITORS: Ernest Untermann, John Spargo, Robert Rives La Monte, Max S. Hayes, William E. Bohn, Mary E. Marcy. CONTENTS FOR JUNE, 1909 . \ Stor~· uf Child Labor ('"The .-\pnstatc .. ) - Jack Lulldt•n The Third Volume of J\Iarx's "Capital'' - F.nlt'St l'lltl'riiHll/11 Stories of the Cave People .\lary E . .\!ar<"y Socialism for Students. VIII. Socialist Philosophy 1 osc ph r:. C olwz The .-\merican Inferno Arthur Scales The Xegro Problem from the ~egro's Point of Vie\Y /. J!. Robbi11s DEPARTMENTS Editor's Chair: Socialism Becoming Respectable; The Rights and Pow ers of a Czar; Fred ·warren's Conviction: A Step Back,,·:~nl: Shall We Take It?; The Des ?vloines Referendum International Notes Literature and .\rt The World of Labor News and Yiew,; Publishers' Department Subscription price, $1.00 a year, including postage, to any address in the United States, Mexico and Cuba. On account of the increased weight of the Review, we shall be obliged in future to make the subseription price to Canada $1.20 and to all other countriea $1.36. •-\c!l·f'rtio;ing RatC'~: Fnll page, $~5.00; half page, $12 ..10: quartPr (lll;:!t>. ~r. 2:;: ';IIIUI!er ndn···tisement~. 15 cents )Wr ll!rnte line. Xo diSC'Ollllt for l't>pt:>·tte•l in-.-r· tions. An extm discount of 5% is, however. allowed for cash in adnut(·(• for ou~ insertion, or 10% whl'n (•ash is paid in advance for three or more insPrtivn• Thus a 20-line advertisement, pnid for in advance, will cost :\!2.8,) fnt· ont• in~r· tion or $8.10 for three insertions. A II o•ommtmicutions n•gnrding ndvcrtisin!r as well as subscriptions should be ad· dressed to CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY, Publishers (Co-Operative) 153 Kinzie Street, Chicago, Ill., U. S. A. Copyright. 1909, by Charles H. Kerr.& Compan}·. IDintered at the Polrto111ee at Chicago, Ill., as ;:':econd CI&IUI Matter July 27, 1900. a11dtr Act ot March 3, 1879. • 80 Digitized by Coogle THE INTERNATIONAL Socialist Review Vol. IX. JUNE, 1909. , No. 12 A Story of Child Labor "THE APOSTATE)} BY JAcK LONDON. F you don't git up, Johnny, I won't give you a bite to eat!" The threat had no effect on the boy. He clung stubbor.nly to sleep, fighting for its oblivion as the dreamer fights for his dream. The boy's hands loosely clenched themselves, and he made feeble, spasmodic blows at the air. These blows were intended for his mother, but she betrayed practiced familiarity in avoiding them as she shook him roughly by the shoulder. "Lemm·e 'lone !" It was a cry that began, muffled, in the deeps of sleep, that swiftly rushed upward, like a wail, into passionate belligerence, and that died away and sank down into an inarticulate whine. It was a bestial cry, as of a soul in torment, filled with infinite protest and pain. But she did not mind. She was a sad-eyed, tired-faced woman, and she had grown used to this task, which she repeated every day of her life. She got a grip on the bedclothes and tried to strip them down ; but the boy, ceasing his punching, clung to them desperately. In a huddle at the foot of the bed, he still remained covered. Then she tried dragging the bedding to the floor. The boy opposed her. She braced herself. Hers was the superior weight, and the boy and bedding, the former instinot- 929 930 A STORY OF CHILD LABOR ively following the later in order to shelter agaihst the chill of the room that bit into his body. As he toppled on the edge of the bed it seemed that he must fall head-first to the floor. But consciousness fluttered up in him. He righted himself and for a moment perilously balanced. Then he struck the floor on his feet. On the instant his mother seized him by the shoul ders and shook him. Again his fists s.truck out, this time with more force and directness. At the same time his eyes opened. She released him. He was awake. "All right," he mumbled. She caught up the lamp and hurried Clut, leaving him in darkness. "You'll be docked," she warned back to him. He did not mind the darkness. When he had got into his clothes he went out into the kitchen. His tread was very heavy for so. thin and light a boy. His legs dragged with their own weight, which seemed unreasonable because they were such skinny legs. He drew a broken bottomed chair to the table. "Johnny!" his mother called sharply. He arose as sharply from the chair, and, without a word, went to the sink. It was a greasy, filthy sink. A smell came up from the outlet. He took no notice of it. That a sink should smelt was to him part of the natural order, just as it was a part of the natural order that the soap should be grimy with dish-water and hard to lather. Nor did he try very hard to make it lather. Several splashes of the cold water from the running faucet completed the function. He did not wash his teeth. For that matter he had never seen a tooth-brush, nor ·did he know that there existed beings in the world who were guilty of so great a foolishness as tooth-washing. "You might wash . yourself wunst a day without bein' told," his mother complained. She was holding a, broken lid on the pot as she poured two cups of coffee. He made no remark, for this was a standing quarrel between them, and the one thing upon which his mother was hard as adamant. "\Vunst" a day it was compulsory that he should wash his face. He dried himself on a greasy towel, clamp and dirty and ragged, that left his face covered with shreds of lint. "I wish we didn't live so far away," she said, as he sat down. "I try to do the best .I can. You know that. But a dollar on the rent is such a savin', an' we've more room here. You know that." He scarcely followed her. He had heard it all before, many times. The r.ange of her thought was limited, and she was ev.er harking back to the hardship worked upon them by living so far from the mills. Digitized by Coogle JACK LONDON 931 "A dollar means more grub,'' he remarked sententiously. "I'd sooner do the walkin' an' git the grub." He ate hurriedly, half-chewing the bread and washing the unmasti cated chunks down with coffee. The hot and muddy liquid went by the name of coffee. Johnny thought it was coffee-and exceUent coffee. That was one of the few of life's illusions that remained to him. He had never drunk real coffee in his life. In addition to the bread there was a small piece of cold pork. His mother refilled his cup with coffee. As he was finishing the bread, he began to watch if more was forthcoming. She intercepted his question ing glance. "Now, don't be hoggish, Johnny," was her comment. "You've had your share: Your brothers an' sisters are smaller'n you." · He did not answer the rebuke. He was not much of a talker. Also, he ceased his hungry glancing for more. He was uncomplaining, with a patience that was as terrible as the school in which it had been learned. He finished his coffee, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and started to arise. "Wait a second," she said hastily. "I guess the loaf kin stand you another slice-a thin un." There was legerdemain in her actions. With all the seeming of cut ting a slice from the loaf for him, she put loaf and slice back in the bread-box and conveyed to him one of her own two slices. She believed she had deceived him, but he had noted her sleight-of-hand. Neverthe less, he took the bread shamelessly. He had a philosophy that his mother, what of her chronic sickliness, was not much of an eater anyway. She saw that he was chewing the bread dry, and reached over and emptied her coffee cup into his. "Don't set good somehow on my stomach this morning," she ex plained. A dis~nt whistle, prolonged and shrieking, brought both of them to their feet. She glanced at the tin alarm-clock on the shelf. The hand stood at half-past five. The rest of the factory world was just arousing from sleep. She drew a shawl about her shoulders, and on her head put a dingy hat, shapeless and ancient. "We've got to run," she said, turning the wick of the lamp and blow ing down the chimney. They groped their way out and down the stairs. It was clear and cold, and Johnny shivered at the first contact with the outside air. The stars had not yet begun to pale in the sky, and the city lay in blackness. Both Johnny and his mother shuffled their feet as they walk.ed.